


Becoming Whole

by Sapphirethief



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Human Alpha Stiles, M/M, Omega Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:23:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphirethief/pseuds/Sapphirethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has been hiding the fact he's an Omega since Laura died. The evening of a pack meeting he realizes he's run out of suppressants. Now he just has to make it through the night with out revealing his true nature or jumping his Alpha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Our first Alpha/Omega or Sterek! Dragon writes Stiles and I write Derek. Please let us know how we do or if you like it!

            Derek looked at the empty bottle in horror. He didn’t remember taking the last pill and the pack were going to be here any moment. He hated the damn pills because they put him into a daze, made it hard to think or be himself. Still he didn’t need the pack to find out about his true nature. He heard the doorbell like a tolling of doom.

            “Shit.”

            “Avon calling!” Stiles said as he barged in, tripping on the thresh hold while he balanced eight drinks in two carriers along with his laptop.

            “Ok, wow!”

            He set them down on the ground and kicked the door shut behind him.

            “Crisis averted.”

            He took a deep breath through his nose and paused.

            “Dude, you smell something burning? I smell something burning. Something’s definitely burning!”

            Derek flew down the stairs. Blurring past Stiles and into the kitchen. Just in time to save dinner. Well except for the rolls but everything else was fine. The rolls were nice blackened clumps that made his eyes water.

            “Damn it!”

            He threw them in the trash and grabbed fresh dough to put on a tray. He paused as his mind caught up with the idea that he wasn’t alone and he turned to face the kitchen doorway.

            “Stiles.”

            “Derek,” he deadpanned back and grinned,” Now that we’ve established that we know each other’s name, you now have to tell me what the hell this is!!”

            He flailed in the direction of the dough.

            “Not the reason it’s burnt, but this!”

            Stiles walked right over to the fresh dough and unashamedly pocked a dent into it.

            “I knew it! You’re an in the closet cooker! Ha ha!”

            He pointed his finger out as if fencing.

            “Keep your fingers out of the food,” Derek growled.

            He let his shoulders relax a little, Stiles hadn’t realized. Maybe some of the last pill was still in his system? He put the new tray in the oven and turned back to Stiles. Not liking to look away for too long in case Stiles tried something stupid. He raised a single eyebrow at the human.

            “Are you complaining?”

            “Ok, wow. No. Totally not complaining, Dude. Actually it explains a lot as to why the food here always tastes like its home made. And trust me, I know home made. So calm your tits.”

            Stiles crossed his arms in defense and totally didn’t stare at Derek’s muscles.

            “Pecs, whatever,” he sniffed, kocked his head and leaned in for a better whiff.

            “You wolves must be rubbing off on me; you smell good.”

            Derek nearly stumbled but saved himself by playing it off as if turning to leave the kitchen. He grabbed the drinks, bringing them back to the kitchen and hulled them onto the kitchen counter.

            “It’s not unheard of for the humans in a pack to take on a few mannerisms.”

            He wasn’t going to lie to Stiles but he wasn’t going to spell it out for him either. He busied himself with the food. Trying and failing to quiet his wolf with in his head. It was all he could do not to open his neck to the kid.

            “Setup the table before the others get here.”

            Stiles stood there staring at Derek for a moment, slackjawed.

            ‘Pack. He called me pack.’

            Funny thing was, he already knew he was pack; all the puppy piles and over protectiveness of all members, being invited to pack meetings really was the first clue. No one had ever voiced it; never acknowledged it out loud. He never really came up with how he might react if it were said. This was… cosmic; stereotypically earth shattering, world changing, etc.

            “Derek,” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat,” I’m suddenly afflicted with the warm and fuzzies…and I think I might just die.”

            He realized too late as hard as he tried the joking façade, he put himself out to be hurt. Since self-preservation is for everyone else, Stiles takes the dive and rushes into a full bear-hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter: Derek responds and the pack show up. To the rescue?


End file.
